John O'Brien - Chaos

I open the curtain to the cockpit and find it illuminated by the early morning light streaming in the windows. I step into the cockpit windows and look out. The eastern horizon is the pale blue of a just risen sun transitioning to a darker blue as the eye travels westward across the cloudless sky. The shadows of the trees lining the air station cast long shadows across the green fields surrounding the runway. Looking out the windows to the other side, the two gray runways ahead of us and the paralleling taxiway behind us stretch away westward. The ramp opens up off the taxiway with several tan buildings abutting against it. Several P-3 Orions are parked on a ramp angling off the main ramp, looking a lot like a C-130 but with low wings and the engines mounted upside down. There’s not a thing moving anywhere that I can see. The indications of last night remain scattered on the main ramp and taxiway; colored bits of clothing littered around but are tiny from this distance. In the early morning light, several crows hop around the strewn body parts.

I climb out of the cockpit and open the front door, light streaming in as it lowers to the ground. Cool morning air replaces the warmth of the interior, cooling my cheeks as it passes by; the smell of a fresh summer day rides the currents. I peek out of the door gazing at the motionless, monstrous propellers, their blades feathered with the edges facing forward, as if completely unaware and not caring what they faced the night prior or the carnage they were involved in.

Stepping down the stairs to the asphalt taxiway, I look along the side of the aircraft. It is there that the evidence reveals itself. On the fuselage, directly in line with the propellers, a thick line of dark red runs vertically down the aircraft with streaks reaching back toward the rear; the darkened streaks dripping down like paint that was put on too thickly. The darkened color is close to the same hue as the olive drab of the 130 and almost blends in. With the sun now fully above the horizon to the east, I do a walk around of the aircraft to check for damage. With the exception of the new paint job, the aircraft looks in good shape. Unless these things figure out how to open the doors, the 130 offers a good mobile sanctuary. The light of the sun begins to warm the air and the sight and sound of birds flying around the distant trees, on whatever errand calls, makes last night and the events of the past few days seem surreal

I finish my walk around to find Robert standing by the bottom of the stairs. “Quite an interesting past few days eh?” I say stepping up next to him as we both gaze across the fields to the north.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he says turning his gaze along the side of the aircraft.

“Wow!” He comments as his eyes reach the darkened streaks.

“Yeah,” I say in response.

“The girls up yet?” I ask after a moment of once again studying the dried blood pasted along the side.

“They were getting up as I left. Are we taking off soon?”

“As soon as we refuel,” I say looking over at the ramp. “Let’s start ‘er up and taxi over while the girls are getting up.”

“Okay, Dad,” Robert says and starts up the stairs.

We settle into our seats and begin our checks. I reach up to set the electrical panel. “Ah crap. Really!” I say noticing a low reading from the batteries.

“What?” Robert asks.

“Low batteries for some reason. We’ll use the cart but we’ll need to figure out why the batteries are low. Let’s go hook up the cart,” I say as we head into the cargo bay.

“Morning, Dad,” Nic says sitting up in her sleeping bag.

“Morning, babe.”

“What are you guys doing?”

“Getting the start cart out. Something’s up with the batteries.”

“Need any help?” She asks climbing out of her bag.

“Sure, hon.”

“Morning,” Michelle says as she climbs out of her bag, descends the small ladder and joins us as we walk to the back.

“Good morning,” we all say in return.

We look like we just woke up from an all-night frat party. Well, I do at any rate. Michelle walks up to Robert and they both give each other a small good morning kiss. Okay, now this has to be one of the oddest moments I have lived through. Seeing your son kiss a girl for the first time. It is just, well, startling. I have always tried to keep up with their growth and treat them accordingly, but it is moments like this that make me realize they are more grown up than I realize, another big step in my acknowledgement of his being a man. My legs actually grow a little weak and I stumble over my own feet.

“You okay, Dad?” Nic asks me, looking up at me with a huge smile painted across her face and a twinkle in her hazel eyes.

“Um, yeah, just fine,” I respond as she continues smiling up at me.

“Bri, we’ll be outside,” I call out.

“Okay, Dad,” a sleepy voice answers on the other side of the fuel tank.

We lower the cargo ramp and wheel the cart into position. “Okay Nic and Michelle, do your stuff,” I say and they unroll the connector cables and attach the cart.

Robert and I walk in through the crew door pulling it closed behind us and head back into the cockpit. I switch the power over to external and, after confirming that Nic is online, start up the right two engines — numbers 3 and 4. Switching to internal power, the electrical instruments read fine. Switching the DC to battery, the reading drops significantly.

“We’ll give them a charge taxiing back to the ramp,” I say switching them back.

Robert unbuckles and heads back to help get the cart onboard and secured while I start the remaining engines. We really only have to start the outboard ones for taxiing but it gives me something to do while they are stowing the cart. I make radio calls on UHF and VHF guard frequencies but silence is my only response as Bri joins me and buckles into her seat.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I say hearing the click of her plugging in and finishing up with my checks.

“Good morning, Dad.”

Moments later, Robert, Michelle, and Nic walk in and settle in and we taxi over to the ramp by the P-3s. I leave the engines running checking on the battery readings. The readings haven’t changed. I leave them running for another twenty minutes with still no indicated change.

“Crap! We may have to change the batteries out with one of the P-3s,” I say beginning the engine shutdown procedure.

“Do we need to?” Nic asks. “It seems to be running fine.”

“Yeah, we need them. I’m not going to head over the pond with bad batteries. At least, I’m hoping it’s the batteries.”

“Have you ever changed batteries before?” Robert asks.

“Nope.”

“Do you know how?” He asks.

“Nope,” I say with the engines winding down.

We shut the aircraft down and search for tools in the storage compartments bringing them to the nose of the aircraft. The one thing I do know is where the batteries are stored in the nose and so, using the onboard tools and a large stepladder we found stored inside, I remove the hatch and look inside. Hooray, first try , I think looking at the batteries sitting on a shelf just inside the aircraft. Looking them over with a flashlight, I notice one of them has a crack in the side.

“The thunderstorm must have bounced them around a little,” I say showing everyone the damaged battery.

“Robert, take Michelle, grab that fuel truck over there and meet us over at that P-3,” I say pointing to the Orion parked closest to us.

“Okay.”

“Do you two have your weapons?” I say as they begin their trek over to the truck.

“Yep,” he replies over his shoulder.

“Let’s gather this stuff up,” I say to Bri and Nic indicating the tools on the ground.